The Disappearance of Stephanie Mailer: A gripping new thriller with a killer twist Joël Dicker (booksvooks TXT) 📖

would have found her there. But as we got to Stag Lake she realized what I was getting ready to do. I don’t know how she knew. Instinct, I guess. She threw herself out of the car and ran through the forest, and I ran after her and caught up with her on the shore. I drowned her. I pushed the body in the water, and it went straight down. I went back to my car. Just then, a motorist passed on the road. I panicked and drove off. She had left her purse in the car. Her keys were in it. I went to her apartment and searched it.”

“You wanted to get your hands on her research,” Derek said. “But you didn’t find anything. So you sent yourself a text message, using Stephanie’s phone to make it look like she’d gone away for a while and to buy time. Then, although it wasn’t discovered until a few days later, you faked a burglary at the newspaper offices to get her computer.”

“That’s correct,” Bird said. “That night, I disposed of her purse and her cell phone. I kept her keys because I thought they might come in useful. Then, when you showed up in Orphea three days later, Jesse, I panicked. That evening, I went back to Stephanie’s apartment, and searched it thoroughly. But then you arrived, although I thought you’d left town. I had no other choice but to attack you with tear gas and get away.”

“And then you made sure you were closely involved with the play and the investigation,” Derek said.

“Yes. And I had no choice but to kill Cody Springfield. I knew he’d told you about Bergdorf’s book. It was in a copy of that book that Mayor Gordon had written Meghan’s name. I started to imagine that everyone knew what I’d done in 1994.”

“And you killed Costico, too, because he might have led us to you.”

“Yes. When Miranda told me you had questioned her, I reckoned you’d go and talk to Costico. I didn’t know if he would remember my name, but I couldn’t take the risk. I followed him home from the club, to find out where he lived. I rang at his door, and pulled my gun on him. I waited until nightfall, then forced him to drive me to Badger Lake and row over to the island. Then I shot him and buried him there.”

“And then it was the opening night of the play,” Derek said. “Did you think Hayward knew your identity?”

“I wanted to be prepared for anything. I snuck my gun into the Theater the day before opening night. Before the search. Then I watched the performance, sitting on the gangway above the stage, ready to shoot at the cast.”

“You shot Carolina, thinking she was about to reveal your name.”

“I had become paranoid. I wasn’t myself anymore.”

“And what about me?” Betsy said.

“On Saturday night, when we went to my house, I really did want to see my daughters. I saw you come out of the bathroom and look at that photograph. I realized you had discovered something. After I managed to escape from Badger Lake, I left your car in the forest. I hit myself on the head with a stone and tied my hands with a length of rope I had found.”

“And you did all this to keep your secret?” I said.

Bird looked me straight in the eyes. “When you’ve killed once, you can kill twice. And when you’ve killed twice, you can kill the whole world. There are no more limits.”

*

“You were right, after all,” Major McKenna said to us on the way out of the interrogation room. “Tennenbaum really was the murderer. But he wasn’t the only one. Congratulations!”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

“Jesse, is there any chance you’ll stay a while longer on the force? I have made your office available. As for you, Derek, if you want to come back to homicide, there’s a place waiting for you.”

Derek and I said we would think it over.

As we were leaving headquarters, Derek said to Betsy and me:

“Would the two of you like to come over for dinner tonight? Darla’s making a roast. We can celebrate the end of the case.”

“That’s kind of you,” Betsy said, “but I promised my friend Lauren I’d have dinner with her.”

“That’s a pity. And what about you, Jesse?”

I smiled. “I have a date tonight.”

“Really?” Derek said, surprised.

“Who with?” Betsy asked.

“I’ll tell you some other time.”

“You’re a dark horse,” Derek said.

I waved to them and got in my car to go home.

*

That evening, I went to a little French restaurant in Sag Harbor that I particularly liked. I waited for her outside, with flowers. Then I saw her arrive. Betsy. She was radiant. She embraced me. With a gesture full of tenderness, I placed my hand on her bandaged face. She smiled and we kissed, for a long time.

“Do you think Derek suspects?” she said.

“I don’t think so.”

And I kissed her again.

2016

Two years after the events

In the fall of 2016, a little theater in New York City put on a play called “Stephanie Mailer’s Darkest Night”,written by Meta Ostrovski and directed by Kirk Hayward. It was a complete flop. Ostrovski was delighted. “Whatever’s unsuccessful must be good, take a critic’s word for it,” he assured Hayward, who was grateful to hear this. The two men are currently touring the country and are very pleased with themselves.

Steven Bergdorf’s article about the Orphea Festival and his role in ‘The Darkest Night’ did indeed revive the fortunes of the New York Literary Review. It went viral on social media and was syndicated nationwide.

Alan Brown did not stand again in the mayoral elections of September 2014. He left with Charlotte for Washington, where he joined the staff of a senator.

Sylvia Tennenbaum was elected mayor of Orphea. She is greatly liked by the townspeople. A year ago she started a spring literary festival which is enjoying a growing success.

Carolina